


Zayncubus

by threeturn



Series: tumblr fic [6]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "ok but what about that universe where zayn's a reluctant incubus w/ a pretty serious case of self-hatred? and middling self-control… anyway he always goes to this sex addicts meeting on thursdays to keep himself grounded. well, one thursday - he meets harry."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zayncubus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in slightly different form [here](http://valencing.tumblr.com/post/64118837133/ok-but-what-about-that-universe-where-zayns-a) on tumblr. Warning that this ficlet reduces addiction recovery to an amusing trope in a way that may be offensive.

Zayn is tired of being an incubus and he's making an honest to goodness effort to go straight––taking it one week at a time, doing his best not to manifest naked and burning with an otherworldly glow next to anyone’s sleeping form. He even attends those sexual addiction recovery meetings at the community centre regularly, hoping to find solidarity in his struggle. No one else seems to have issues with demonic sperm or involuntary spirit predation, but it's motivational anyway.

Harry, on the other hand, ends up in the sex addiction meeting by accident; he thought it was the yoga room and didn't get why all the metal folding chairs were set up in a circle. But when he takes off his shirt and unrolls his yoga mat, people give him such horrified and disapproving looks that he quickly clambers into a chair instead. He certainly doesn't mean to make eye contact with the beautiful dark-eyed boy sitting across the circle.

By the time Harry catches on it’s too late for yoga anyway, so when it’s his turn to share he quickly makes up a harrowing story of sexual compulsion and hopes it sounds plausible. He’s only ever had sex with two people so he’s not exactly sure what to say, but people nod understandingly, so it must have seemed right. The nice lady sitting next to him pats him on the knee and that quiet boy opposite him smiles slowly and shifts a little in his chair.

Afterwards there’s coffee and donuts but no bananas. A lot of people seem to want to talk to Harry, but Harry really just wants to talk to that boy. Maybe see if he likes yoga or bats. He’s standing apart in his black leather, looking beautiful and ill at ease.

“No,” says Zayn immediately when Harry approaches him. With his supernatural powers of sexual history knowledge, right away he knows Harry was lying his arse off in meeting. This is obviously a precious curly innocent angel who’s only ever slept with his uni boyfriend and the bartender who picked him up the night his uni boyfriend dumped him for someone more worldly. He doesn’t deserve to have his soul sucked out through his dick, no matter how tasty his soul would be.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Harry tells him, a little hurt. "Namaste."

“No, no yoga,” says Zayn, going incoherent. “Or you. Hair. Face. Smells good. Go away.”

“Oh, wow,” says Harry, and takes a step back.

“Fuck,” says Zayn, and grabs Harry’s wrist. His touch is like an electric pulse running through Harry’s whole body.

“We could go somewhere for coffee and talk,” Harry tells him hopefully. "Just talk! I'm Harry."

"Pain—I mean Zayn. God, I can’t, I—” Zayn breaks off, shaking his head.

“You can tell me,” says Harry gently. He understands that everyone at this meeting is struggling with inner demons, but this boy seems more tortured than most. Zayn leans in so close Harry can feel his breath on his neck. He smells—sweet, like a really classy scented candle. Once Harry had a candle that smelled so good he tried eating it, but the results were disappointing.

“You should go home,” Zayn mutters.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. It’s probably rude to try to make a date with someone at sex addiction recovery anyway. “I guess it's time to call it a night.” But Zayn hasn’t let go, and now his thumb is stroking the inside of Harry's wrist. Harry doesn’t ever do this, he thinks people should date for at least a month before they take their clothes off, and yet he finds himself making a come-on so shameless he would blush if he could. “You wanna…you wanna tuck me in?”

Zayn makes a guttural noise that sounds like nothing human, and his face crumples, suddenly etched with despair. “No,” he says. “Monster.” Zayn actually has an amazing vocabulary, but it’s hard for him to focus once he’s made contact with prey. _Person_ , he corrects himself internally. _People aren't prey_. It's his favorite mantra––he's written it with a sharpie on his bathroom mirror. Zayn has been working so hard on respect for all beings, and now listen to him.

“’m not a monster, really,” says Harry, embarrassed. “At least not that kind. You want the truth? All that stuff I said about, like, sex things? I made it up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Zayn grits out. “The demon is me.”

Harry smiles at him trustingly. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he says.

_Humans are so stupid_ , thinks Zayn. “You’ll find out,” he says with bitter irony and a final burst of self-loathing. The rest of the room has gone hazy. All he sees is the green ocean of Harry's eyes, pulling him deeper. There’s no point in trying to fight it anymore. "You live around here, or should we get an uber?”

"Let's walk," says Harry, "enjoy the night air." He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling exhilarated and weirdly languorous at the same time, as if Zayn is exuding some kind of soporific sex incense. He knows the darkness will wake him up, sharpen his instincts. He just hopes he and Zayn can spend some time getting to know each other before his own blood hunger or whatever spoils the mood like usual. Harry's so tired of ruining potential relationships that way.

"This way," says Zayn, taking his hand and moving them towards the door. "Wow, your hand is really cold."

"So you'll warm me up," says Harry, and nestles in closer, proud of his snappy come-back. Zayn's such a nice boy, he's probably never even met a vampire before. Harry definitely plans to take it slow.


End file.
